In Wake Of A Dream: Fever Dreams Part 3
by Nyte Kat
Summary: A double funeral and a weekend with Chance at his mothers, A lot of bad language and a few sexual innuendos. Nothing graphic. Some suicides mentioned. I like torturing Jake. He's just so fragile.


*~*~*~*~Ok well this is the third installment. Upon writing this, I've only got one review. But I don't care. Review, Flame me if you like... I love the pain. I don't own anything. If I did, I wouldn't be poor.~*~*~*~*~*   
  
In The Wake Of A Dream  
  
Jake leaned heavily on the front of the car as he inspected the engine. How could someone forget to put oil in their car? He sighed. 'That's what happens when daddy's little girl gets behind a wheel, I suppose.' He thought to himself, remembering the typical blonde 19 year old that was with her father, bringing in the car. It was a newer model sports car, the kind with high insurance that only a modern wealthy class family could afford. He rolled his eyes. Balancing most of his weight on his right leg, as the left one wasn't completely healed after the events a month ago, he screwed the oil cap back on and turned around.   
  
"This is Ann Gora live on location in front of Megakat City Bank where Hard Drive has infiltrated the banks new advanced computer system." Behind her, the Turbo Kat could be seen firing a couple of Scrambler Missiles at the electric force field that Hard Drive had put up around the bank so that no one could leave. Jake frowned. He hated not being up there with T-Bone. Grabbing the metal cane that Chance had bought him when the crutches became an annoyance, Jake hobbled to the small waiting area outside the garage. "Mr. Stray?" Jake said timidly. He hated dealing with people. That was Chance's department. He's the one that liked to talk. The heavy set business type man stood up. "So what's the damage, kid?" Jake hated that. Kats that man's age seemed to get a kick out of talking to the blue collar working class in that sort of condescending tone. "It needs a new engine." Jake looked over the notes he had taken. "To be honest, sir, You'd probably get out cheaper buying a brand new car." The fat kat grinned and laughed deeply. "Well, that's just fine then. Little Precious wanted a new one anyway. That model's so out dated." Jake chuckled lightly as if to agree. Then the man straightened up and pulled out his wallet. "So how much for looking at it, then?" Jake handed him the carbon copies of the report. "$42, that includes both the towing and the inspection, and then there's an additional $15 if you want to leave it here for salvage." The man pulled out a $100 bill. "$57 then, go ahead and keep the change for being honest." Jake was about to hand him the $43 in change when the guy held up his hand. Jake sighed, but didn't argue. He watched the man climb into the luxury sedan, with his daughter in the passenger seat and drive off. Jake laid the metal cane on the counter and sat back in a comfy, but torn chair that Chance had found in the yard. He ran his hand over the shaft of the cane. It was a sword too. One of those trick ones. He looked up as the Turbo kat roared over. Jake decided to close the shop and he headed down the stairs slowly to the hanger to meet Chance.   
  
Chance had changed back into his coveralls by the time Jake made it down the stairs. He was still a little clumsy with the cane, and tended to try to step without it.   
  
"Let's see, that's SWAT Kats 167, Enforcers 6." Chance laughed as he put another mark on the wall, a look of pride on his face. Jake looked skeptical. "That was too quick of a victory. Hard Drive will be around again soon. Either that or he's plotting something larger." Chance frowned. "You sure are a buzz kill sometimes, ya know that?" Jake chuckled lightly, then pulled his large tip out of his pocket. "Got us some spending cash." Chance took the money, double counted it to be sure. "Where'd you get this?" Jake sat down in a chair near some of his projects. "Finder's Fee for helping Hard Drive." Chance laughed. "No really. Where?" "Some rich guy. Paid with a hundred. Refused to take the change. Said he respected 'an honest kat'." Jake rolled his eyes. "So now there's one of those weird looking sports cars sitting in the bay for us. Needs a new engine, so its no good really." Chance got up and headed up the stairs. "I'll take a look at it anyway." Jake followed, trying to keep up but miss-stepped and fell. Chance shook his head. "That's what happens when you don't take your time." He turned around and helped Jake up. With a frown, Jake muttered a quick thanks, and followed Chance up the stairs.   
  
Jake reopened the shop, while Chance tinkered around under the hood of the new piece of junk. The remainder of the day was slow for the most part. Chance towed the car out into the yard after taking out anything he wanted to keep. Jake headed back down into the hanger a few hours later to work on strengthening his leg, something he felt was going far too slowly for his taste.  
  
Chance pulled his latest project out of the back. He had been saving the work on this baby for when Jake wasn't around. It was going to be a present when he had the full use of his left leg again. There wasn't much work left on it, only some minor things; and it needed a new carburetor, which Jake was unwittingly building under the pretenses that it would be for the Cyclotron. Chance allowed his thoughts to wander back to that night as he adjusted the clutch. They had thought Piper and Dark Kat were fighting for control of the space craft, but weren't overly surprised when it was discovered that they were in cahoots. Jake was right when he said she was powerful. He remembered Razor going for some back spin kick when Piper had knocked his bike out from underneath him, and then caught Razor's left leg in the air and threw him hard over her shoulder. He didn't break his leg, but tore the cartilage in his knee, along with a few ligaments as well. Chance had got him home, helped him chang into some normal clothes and took him to the hospital. Fortunately, what happened to his knee was something typical for people who work out a lot. That was just the excuse they had used. In the last month, Jake had undergone two knee surgeries and had just started the required weekly physical therapy. Chance bought him that cool cane hoping that Jake would feel a bit more comfortable out in public with that than the stupid crutches. He looked up as he heard that same metal cane clinking up the stairs from the hangar. He pushed the motorcycle back into its hiding place and cleaned up.   
  
Jake pushed open the door weakly. He knew he'd over done it this time. His knee was throbbing and, although he could bend it a little more than before, then he collapsed pathetically on the couch, stretching his left leg out and leaned against the arm. He was sweating and thirsty, but the walk to the kitchen, although it was only a matter of a few steps, seemed incomprehensible to him. So he closed his eyes and panted quietly, willing his leg to stop aching and get better.   
  
"Well take up all the couch, why don't ya?" Chance said plopping down in the lumpy recliner. "Looks like you're buying dinner tonight." He said pointing to the money Jake had thrown down on the table. "I guess so." Jake spoke trying to hide the pain he had put himself in. "Want anything in particular?" He pushed himself up from the half laying position he was in, involuntarily wincing. "How about a glass of water and some pain killers." Jake smiled. "What's wrong? Fighting solo too much for a Kat like you?" He said, hoping to sound like he wasn't in that much pain. "You know, I think you over do it on purpose, just so that cute physical therapist can pamper you." Chance said from the kitchen. Jake laughed. "Actually, the cute one is the receptionist. The therapist is this burly she kat named Hilda! Her strength could rival yours." Jake took the glass and pills from Chance. "So that's why you don't want me waiting around on you while you're there? Afraid I'll see you whimpering at the mercy of the Queen of Pain?" Jake set down the water. "Well not quite. But without you there, I don't have to worry about you trying to hold me back when I run." Chance smiled. "Just for that I think I'll stick around tomorrow morning."   
  
Jake swallowed nervously as the petite she kat told him to lie back on the table. Today wasn't really therapy, mostly a mobility test and some x-rays to see how his knee was healing. He caught Chance's eye. The look said "THIS is your Queen of Pain?" A small smile played on the larger Kat's lips. Jake closed his eyes. Then opened them, giving a loud yelp of pain as the doctor pushed on his leg, bending it. She frowned. "Jake, I don't recall you having this much trouble last week. Whatever you are doing at home, you need to cut back because it will only take longer for you to heal if you keep overdoing it." She straightened out his leg. That seemed to hurt even more than bending it. She shook her head, making a "tsk" sound as she did so. Jake moved to a sitting position as the doctor pulled the x-rays taken earlier out of the folder. "Well, there does seem to be some improvement." She held them up to the light. "Your ligaments are healing nicely, and it doesn't look like you will require any further surgery." She held another sheet up to the light. "However," She sighed. "You have some swelling. There's a lot of fluid in your knee. It needs to be drained."   
  
About an hour later, Jake hobbled out of the hospital; Chance slowed his pace to stay beside him, feeling somewhat guilty for the depressed look on his friend's face. The doctor had asked Jake how long he spent working on strengthening his leg on a day-to-day basis. Jake had started to lie saying that he only did a few stretches. It was for the best though. She had asked that Chance accompany him to his therapy every week and to make sure he spends less time trying to force his knee to heal. "You're lucky I don't have you wearing that brace again." She had pointed at Jake. "Oh stop pouting." Chance crossed his arms over his chest. "You brought this on yourself. Maybe now you will stop pushing yourself so hard."   
  
Jake sighed. Chance was right. He needed to stop being so stupid. Mentally, he cursed Piper for ever coming here, and he was glad she was gone.   
  
Chance flipped aimlessly through the channels. There wasn't anything on. Jake was snoring quietly under a blanket on the couch. Despite the heat, the sound of the wind blowing outside seemed to leave a kat still cold. Then the phone rang. Chance darted for it, answering it before Jake woke up. "Jake and Chance's Auto Repair and Salvage"  
  
"Chance, its me, Leslie, is Jake there?" Leslie was Jake's sister. He narrowed his eyes. Jake's family never called unless something bad happened or there was something good to rub in his face.  
  
"He's asleep." Chance replied gruffly.  
  
"Can you wake him up? It's about his mother." She sounded desperate, and there was a raw sound to her voice, as if she had been crying.   
  
"Hold on." Chance set the phone down and went to wake up Jake then sat back in his recliner and started flipping through the channels again, only catching a few words from Jake, but not really paying attention. He could really care less for Jake's family. They were all too snobby for their own good. And Jake had always been the black cat of the family. He looked up at the sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver. Jake was leaning against the wall, chewing on a claw. "Chance, I'll be back in a little bit." He moved to grab the car keys. Driving was no problem, as the Sable was an automatic and he didn't need his left foot to drive, however he was still somewhat dopey from the pain killers he had taken not too long ago. "I have to go to the hospital." Chance jumped up and followed Jake down to the car. He grabbed the keys away from him. "Two things; 1: you're drugged up on pain killers and 2: If the rest of your family is there, you're walking into a pack of hungry wolves and that's suicide."  
  
Chance followed Jake out of the elevator. For someone with a damaged knee, he was moving rather fast. The halls were quiet, except the sound of feet and the metal clinking of Jake's cane against the tile floor. The walls were a light pink color, and the lights seemed dim, as if to be calming. Instead, it seemed ominous. Jake stopped and knocked lightly on a door. A thin she-kat that was obviously Jake's kin greeted him.   
  
"She's been asking for you all day." Leslie spoke quietly as Jake sat down in the chair next to the bed. He took his mother's hand. It was cold and stiff, as if death had already claimed her. Behind him, Leslie ushered Chance out the door.  
  
"She had a bad stroke in the night. It's not looking good for her." Leslie said still in a quiet voice. Chance had met her before. He'd met all of Jake's family. They invited both of them over for some holiday. It was torture. They referred to the incident with the Enforcers constantly, always followed by a disgusted look in Jake's direction with a laugh.   
  
Jake didn't say anything. He really didn't know what to say. He just held her hand in the dimly lit room.  
  
"Jacob." He lifted his eyes to hers. She squeezed his hand lightly. He chewed nervously his lower lip. A feeling came over him, it was as if he should say something, but wasn't quite sure what. "I'm here mom." Jake said quietly. "You're so thin." She spoke, sounding as if it was a task. Jake smiled grimly. "I'm sorry." The words seemed to spill from his mouth. "I've disappointed you." He swallowed the urge to cry. "You've always been strong." She took a ragged breath. "I've made your life difficult. You don't need me here." She smiled and squeezed his hand. But then her smile faded. "I'm counting on you to be strong." Jake frowned. Her eyes seemed to grow empty. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. The shrill sound of her heart stopping seemed miles away. He stood, reached his paw to her face and closed her eyes. Two nurses and a doctor rushed in, pushing him out into the hall. His mind was spinning, and the sounds were muffled as if he was under water. Then the mournful screams of Leslie and her sudden kick to his bad knee brought him back to reality and to his knees in a blur of white hot pain.  
  
Chance watched from the back of the church as his friend leaned heavily on his cane between the two coffins. The same night Jake's mother died, his sister shot herself. It was weird really. The Enforcers had been called after a neighbor heard gunshots. They couldn't find her husband. Commander Feral recognized the last name and did a check. He had called Jake personally. His usual sarcastic tone was gone, replaced with an un usually sympathetic one. Chance looked down to the front of the church. Jake looked as if he was suffocating. Chance straightened his jacket and met him half way. "You alright?" Jake looked pale. "Yeah, just need some air."   
  
Jake leaned against the stone wall of the church. It was cold, but the bitter air and occasional snow flake was a comfort to the stuffiness inside. He had no one now. His father had passed when he was younger. Neither of his parents had any siblings. And now, they were all gone. It was only him. A couple of cars pulled in while they were outside. And the minister stuck his head out the church to let Jake know that the service would start in 5 minutes. One of the cars, a blue SUV, parked and a tall Kat got out, followed by a tiny she-kitten. It was his sister's husband Christopher Persian. They hated each other. He watched the other car park, a green station wagon. An older she-kat got out of it. She was plump and had a black sweater wrapped around her. Jake couldn't remember who she was until she turned around. It was Chance's mother, Rita Furlong. Jake had met her a few times before. Chance had arranged for them to spend the weekend with her so Jake could take a break from everything. She bustled over to them. "There's my boys." She said sweetly in a southern drawl that wasn't familiar. But then, Chance did grow up in the south. She pulled her son into a big hug. Then took Jake by the shoulders and looked him over. "When was the last time you ate?" She narrowed her eyes. "And slept for that matter." Jake shrugged. "Oh you poor thing." And she pulled him into one of her huge hugs as well. "We'd better get in there. The service is about to start." Jake said quietly.  
  
The three off them took a seat up front. Chance and his mother on each side of Jake, whose brother-in-law had squeezed past Rita and took a seat at the far end, giving Jake a hateful look.   
  
Chance zoned out the service. His thoughts drifted. His mother returned the hateful look to Chris. She hated Jake's family. Once she had slapped Jake's mother when she had bad mouthed him in front of her. Several of the whispers behind them were about her. Chance's mother wasn't like them. Not stuck up like them. Last night, she had driven all the way out to their home at the salvage yard to cook them a hot meal and make sure Jake had got all the funeral arrangements in order. He didn't have any family left to help out. And didn't want to dump it on his mother's snobby friends. Chance felt a tap. He looked up. Jake was standing and motioned for Chance to come. He had asked Chance to be a pallbearer as there were two coffins, instead of just one. Chance patted his friend and, basically, little brother on the shoulder and whispered to him, "It's almost over." Jake nodded.  
  
Most of the people had said their goodbyes and left when Christopher made his way over to Jake, Chance, and Rita. "Jake! I don't believe you've introduced your friend." He smiled devilishly, glancing back at his little girl playing in the snow. "Chance, this is, was Leslie's husband, my brother-in-law, Christopher Persian." Jake shoved his hands into his coat pockets. Chance stuck out his paw. "Chance Furlong. Jake was my gunner as Enforcer's. Now he's my co-worker, roommate, and best friend." Chris grinned. "Oh. So then my suspicions were wrong."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Chance looked confused.  
  
"Well, I've never heard of any women in Jake's life. I assumed he was gay." Jake rolled his eyes. "Chris, just because you have questions about your manhood, doesn't give you the right to question anyone else's." He narrowed his eyes then added. "If you still have any questions about my preference, ask your sister. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to tell you just how straight I am." Chris blinked, a stunned look on his face. "What about my sister, Clawson?" Jake crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't care anymore. She was married now, last he'd heard. "What do you want to know?" Jake felt brave all of a sudden. "How about how tight she is? Or how she tastes?" He felt joy in seeing Chris's eyes widen. "You didn't. You're bluffing." Jake cracked a smile. "We did alright. Several times as a matter of fact. She's especially good with that pierced tongue of hers." Chance's eyes widened hearing Jake talk like that. Jake rarely ever stood up for himself, let alone added to an argument. "YOU'RE LYING!" Chris had turned red in the face. Jake frowned. "If you say so, but if you ask her, she'll tell you who popped that cherry with a smile." That was it. Chance caught the fist in mid air. "I think you should set a better example for your kid." He said sternly and pointed to the little girl staring at her father. Chris leered at Jake, then walked away. "Was that REALLY necessary?" Chance, normally the one who needed holding back, was shocked. "And did you really do his sister?" Jake nodded and followed Chance to the car.  
  
Jake popped a couple of pain pills and washed them down with the rest of his Iced Tea. He had spent 2 hours pretending to be coping well and enjoying the company. But really, he had just been waiting for a chance to just be by himself and reflect. He headed into the kitchen, finally finding Mrs. Furlong.   
  
"Hey Sugar!" She said sweetly. "How you feeling?" Jake smiled, "I think I'm going to turn in; it's been a long day." She smiled and led him to the guest room he'd be sharing with Chance. "Thanks." He said quietly. She hugged him. "I know you probably feel lost right now, but after a good nights sleep, you will feel better, I promise." She closed the door behind her, leaving Jake alone.   
  
He sat down slowly, took off his shoes, and slid back on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. The events of the past few days all caught up to him. 2 sudden deaths, combined with little sleep, that damn knee, and not eating nearly enough all off a sudden just hit him at once. He rested his head on a pillow between his forehead and right knee, in a sort of half fetal position. He fiddled with his cane, separating it into the two parts. Then he traced the blade with his claw. He sighed and extended one of his own claws. Jake pressed it against his wrist. He scratched deeply, but felt nothing. He extended all the claws on the one paw and scratched violently at his wrist, drawing blood but no pain, nothing to make the hurt inside real, to give reason to the tears flowing down his cheeks. He clawed at his other wrist. The same, blood but no pain. He felt numb. The tears burned hot down his face. Then the pain came. It was how he felt on the inside: numb at first, and then it stung all over. The air just made it throb worse. He pulled his sleeves down, covering his wrists and buried his face in the pillow.   
  
Chance couldn't remember seeing Jake anywhere for a couple of hours. After bumping into his mother searching for him, he pushed open the bedroom door to see Jake jump and stare back at him, his cheeks damp with tears. Chance left, then came back with a box of tissue. He handed Jake the box and sat down on the bed opposite him.   
  
"Thanks." he sniffed quietly, hiccupping, then taking a shaky breath.  
  
"I'm not really good at these kind of things, but if you need to talk... I can go get my mom or something." Chance rambled nervously. Fortunately for him, Jake seemed to open up. "The last words she said to me were to be strong, that she was counting on me." He rubbed his eyes, laughing in a sad sort of way. "No wonder I always disappointed them. She's dead, and I still can't do anything right." His voice shook, as if saying it made it too final for him. "Leslie," he got quiet "that ungrateful bitch." He stood up, using the bed post for support, as the cane was disassembled. "She left in her note that I had refused to let her see Mom before she died." Jake recalled the words she'd scrawled desperately on a piece of torn paper. "Just like Dad, blaming me." Chance eyed Jake's cane, then watched Jake pull his sleeves further down, covering his wrists nervously. "What about you dad?" Jake swallowed. "He wasn't killed like everyone said. Mom paid them off to say he was to hide the embarrassment of a suicide." Jake stood up and limped over to the far wall, leaning against it. "He really put a gun in his mouth, blew his brains out all over the kitchen." He made a sick face. "Lucky me, I found him. In his letter," He shifted nervously, staring at his feet, shoving his hands in his pocket. "He said that he was finally free of me. He said I was good for nothing." Jake winced as his wrists rubbed against the seam of his athletic pants. He had hoped the pain would make him like his family... or at least make the events seem more real.  
  
"Let me see." Chance said softly.  
  
"See what?"  
  
"Your arms... I'm not stupid." Chance tried to mask the worry on his face.  
  
"Oh come on Chance. Just leave me alone." Jake studied the edges of the old rug at his feet, vaguely aware of Chance now standing in front of him.   
  
"Just let me see your arms." He said sternly. Jake narrowed his eyes and tried to move around him. But a pain shot up through his knee and he tripped. Chance caught him by one of the wrists in question, and Jake let out a hiss of pain, followed by a curse as Chance started to pull down his sleeve. In a desperate moment, he swung his free hand at Chance, but Chance caught it with his other hand, jerking the sleeve back in the process. A gasp escaped his lips. How could his best friend do that to himself? "Jake... why?" Chance let him go. "I'll be right back." Jake's eyes widened. "Where are you going." He was afraid Chance would throw his mother into this. He didn't want to be babied right now. "To get something to clean your cuts with. Then me and you are gonna have a talk." Jake sat down on his bed. Now he wasn't completely sure his reason behind what he'd done. In a moment it seemed rational. Now... well he felt like a complete idiot. Chance returned, closing the door quietly. "Everyone's asleep already." He set a bag of cotton balls down on the table between their beds and sat beside Jake. "Roll up your sleeve." Jake pushed up his sleeves, and fought the urge to wince at the burning sensation caused by the rubbing alcohol. He watched as Chance wiped away the blood and then wrapped his arms in a thin layer of gauze, covering all the scratches. "Are you going to be alright?" Jake looked up. He didn't know really. "Look, Chance, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing. I wasn't thinking." "Hey, it's alright. Just save those claws for the bad guys next time, ok?" Jake nodded. "I can't say I know how you feel, man. But you are like a little brother to me. And seeing something like this from you... well it worries me." Chance nervously pulled back the covers on his bed. "Look, let's get a full nights sleep and worry about this in the morning, ok?" Jake nodded, putting his cane back together. Chance took it and set it on the dresser. Jake crawled into bed as he turned out the light.   
  
The morning silence was broken by the scraping of the shovel against the ice, and the thump of its contents landing in the yard. It was early, the sun had only been up for about an hour, but Chance always preferred manual labor to sitting around, letting his mind wander. Besides, the driveway needed shoveling anyway. He hadn't slept well, and by the sounds of the tossing and turning, Jake's sleep had been restless. He chopped up a patch of ice with the shovel. A storm had blown in during the night, dumping another foot off snow on the ground. The snow that had been there before hand froze, leaving a thick layer of ice underneath the fresh powder. A snow flake fluttered down, landing on a whisker. Chance looked up at the sky. The sun had disappeared behind some clouds. He had hoped that it would warm up a little and melt some of the snow, but now it looked as if there was more heading their way. He shook his head and continued shoveling. He wondered what had been going through Jake's head last night. What could drive a kat to the point of harming himself? It didn't solve anything. All it did was add more pain. Jake had said himself that he didn't really know what he was thinking, that he hadn't really been thinking at all. Chance found it hard to believe that Jake could stop thinking for a second. He'd seen Jake literally think himself to the point of illness. He emptied his shovel in the yard again. There was still a good portion of the driveway left to shovel, and then he had to dig the rock salt out of the old storage shed in the back yard. Chance remembered when his father died. It was his senior year in high school. He had got called out of class and his mother was crying in the office. His father's jet had gone done. Something had malfunctioned. Thinking back, he halfway understood what Jake was going through, that feeling of uselessness. But there was a difference between the death of his father, and the death of Jake's. Chance had been his father's son. He looked up to him and wanted to be just like him. Jake, on the other hand, had never got along well with either of his parents, or any one else in his family for that matter. Part of his reason for joining the Enforcers was to spite his family. He had been offered a full ride to some Ivy League school, but his father had berated him, said that he'd never make it past his first year. And far be it for Jake to stand up for himself. Chance knew when he'd met Jake that he'd probably been bullied a lot. The drill sergeant had taken advantage of Jake's skittish behavior. Chance chopped up some more ice. The snow had started to fall steady now. He sighed and shoveled faster. Behind him he heard the front door open. "Need some help?" Chance chuckled. "Yeah. There's another shovel in the garage. Be careful."   
  
Jake limped off the step. "Already got it." His feet crunched in the snow. Chance set down his shovel. "You keep shoveling. I need to dig that salt out and start on that." Jake's reply was the sound of his shovel digging in the snow. Since his knee injury, he'd been grounded. Not like "go to your room" grounded; the "stuck on the ground" grounded. He'd been glued to the news every time there had been an emergency needing the SWAT Kats. Last week, he couldn't sleep and had gone down to the hanger. Chance had found him the next morning asleep in the gunner's seat of the Turbo Kat. He'd been two embarrassed to say he missed it, so he had told Chance that he couldn't remember how he'd got there. He wanted to get back in the air so bad he could taste it. Chance couldn't possibly understand how free he felt as Razor, behind that mask he could do anything. He dug his shovel under the snow, scooped it up and tossed it aside. He heard Chance set down the bag of rock salt and turned his head to look at him. "Hey Chance, about last night." He stepped backwards onto a small sheet of ice and gasped as his feet went out from underneath him.   
  
Chance looked up as Jake fell on his rear in the driveway. "There's ice under that snow, you need to chop it up." Jake gritted his teeth. "I know that now." He pushed himself up onto his right knee, but didn't have the strength in his left leg to get up. Chance crossed his arms. "Oh for Kats Sake, Jake if you need help ask." Jake growled, "I'm fine." He reached for the shovel, stuck it in the ice and started to pull himself up, then the ice chipped and he fell forward with a loud curse. 'Come on! It's just ice!' Jake screamed at himself in his mind. Chance offered his help again. "Back off Chance! I can do this!" He was getting frustrated. "Fine!" Chance went to back to spreading ice on the drive way, occasionally looking up to see Jake fail in another attempt to get up. Jake was grinding his teeth, breathing hard. This was stupid. Frozen water was getting the better of him, a genius. He punched the ground. Enough was enough. He jammed the shovel into the ice and snow again and tried one more time. He was almost there, then, the ice cracked, he fell forward, and in an attempt to keep up, he pulled the shovel toward himself. But it was in vain. He fell forward and smashed the shovel handle into his nose so hard that black spots danced in his vision, and he resigned to his butt in the cold snow once more. Jake put his hand to his nose and felt the sticky blood that streamed out of one of his nostrils. He gave up. "Chance." Chance wiped the salt off his cold paws and helped the smaller kat up. Jake took the shovel out of Chance's paws with a sigh. He wiped his paw on his coat and started shoveling again, making sure to chip the ice this time, occasionally bringing a paw back up to his nose to make sure the bleeding had stopped. There were only a few feet left until the end of the drive way. "You ever get the feeling that you're beating your head against a brick wall?" Chance looked up with a smile. "Constantly, but I think once you get to a certain age, you're meant to feel that way." He chuckled. "Maybe." There was an uncertainty to his voice. Jake rubbed his nose. "Sometimes I think there's this huge black cloud that follows me around." He scraped up the rest of the ice at the end of the drive way. "It's like I'm just destined to be the person my whole family was convinced I am; a failure." Chance frowned. "You know better than that." He wiped the snow of his face. "Do I?" Jake used the shovel like a crutch. "I mean look at me!" Jake tossed the shovel into the snow with fury. He ran his paws through his messy hair. All his sadness and depression from last night seemed to be replaced by this lifetime of hate and anger he'd just let build up. He kicked at the snow near the shovel for added measure, losing his balance in the process and landed on the hard drive way. 'Here we go again,' thought Chance with an irritated groan. Jake scowled and, with a rush of angry adrenaline, pushed up with his arms and managed to get back to his feet. "Fucking knee." He swore loudly. "That's not really necessary is it?" Chance finished salting the driveway. The temperature had dropped and the snow fell heavier. "Is any of it necessary?" Jake whispered. "Is this stupid knee necessary? Is me sitting around, wasting my time working on stupid 'projects' when I should be up there with you necessary? Has my entire life of being told to shut up or stay out of the way because I'm just a waste of time and a burden been necessary?" Jake balled up his fists. He was picking a fight with his best friend. The sad part was, he wanted a fight, he wanted Chance to get angry and swing at him. Chance crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't have any control over those things." He sighed. "You've been through a lot lately, and I think right now, fighting Hard Drive or some other criminal isn't in your best interest." Jake looked livid. "Would you stop being so damn sympathetic? I'm so tired of the fucking babying! Who left it up to YOU to decide what was in MY best interest?!" Chance carried the bag of salt up the driveway, set it down in the yard and looked Jake in the eyes. "Well excuse me for TRYING to be a good friend! But it doesn't look like you've got anyone left to lean on! So stop with the stupid self pity and just get on with your life!" Jake snapped. "Fuck you!" He punched Chance square in the jaw with a hard right hook. Chance narrowed his eyes, felt his jaw with his paw. Jake gave a mental yelp of pain, but swung again with his left fist. Chance dodged him. "Jake you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He growled. He didn't want to fight Jake, but he wasn't going to stand there and let someone swing at him and not fight back. All Jake had were his fists. With his left knee unable to support his weight, as light as Jake was, he couldn't kick. That was his weakness, the inability to use his legs. Jake pushed him back. Chance caught one of Jake's fists and threw him down into the soft snow covering the grass on the opposite side of the driveway as the shovel he had been using to get up. "Get up." Chance growled. Jake forgot about the ice underneath the snow in his rage. He kept trying to get up, but falling. Chance stood over him. Every time Jake was half way there, he'd push him down and then demand he get up. "STOP PUSHING ME!" Jake screamed at Chance. "Why? You do it to yourself all the time!" Jake cursed as the pain shot through his left knee, it was blinding, but he kept pushing. Chance prepared to push Jake back down but felt the air rush out of him as Jake speared him down onto the hard driveway. He lay on his back, a look of surprise on his face. Jake sat on his chest and swung at him, but his fists were caught. Chance held firmly onto Jake's fists. He knew Jake was putting all he had into it, but Chance was stronger. Jake tried to force Chance to let go of him until his arms felt numb. Chance threw him off. "You done yet?" Jake sat on the driveway, breathing hard and sweating despite the bitter wind and the heavy snow fall. Jake closed his eyes. They both jerked their heads towards the front door. "What in the hell is going on out here?" Rita was wrapped in a long bathrobe. "Nothing." Jake said turning his head away. "We were just finishing up the driveway. She looked to Chance. "We'll be inside in a minute." She shook her head. "Well when you do, get cleaned up and into some clean clothes. By that time, breakfast should be done." She slammed the door behind her. Jake started to push himself up. Chance held out his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Your nose is bleeding again." Jake wiped the blood off on his sleeve. "And no thanks to me, you're probably in for a longer time on the ground." "Don't worry about it. I deserved it." He wiped the snow from his clothes, which were soaked through by now. "We cool?" Chance wiped snow from his own clothes. "Yeah." Jake nodded. "Sorry about spearing you." Jake took the shovels from Chance and headed to the garage. "Sorry about pushing you down." Chance picked up the bag of salt. "I'll see you inside." He headed out back to the shed.  
  
Jake let the hot water run down his face and neck. He ignored the burning from the aggravation to his wrists. He deserved for them to hurt anyway. His knee was swelling and throbbed painfully. And his nose hurt. But he felt somewhat better, albeit drained. He washed the soap from his hair. For the first time in days, he actually felt hungry. Jake turned off the water and wrapped the towel around his waste. He wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at himself. His nose was somewhat swollen, no thanks to his stubbornness. He had lost a noticeable amount of weight since being forced to sit out being a super hero. Jake was young, only 25; yet his eyes looked old. He felt old. Being stuck on the ground had made him more depressed than he realized. But he would change that. He had some designs he'd scrapped, feeling that they wouldn't be useful, but all they needed was rethinking. Maybe in his spare time, he could call up a couple of old girlfriends, see if any of them are interested. It dawned on him suddenly that he was terribly lonely, although the thought of trying to pick up someone he didn't know made him nervous after Piper. He hung up the towel and looked himself over in the mirror. He wasn't a bad looking kat at all, and rather well endowed if he did say so himself. He smiled, nearly laughing out load, then he got dressed, thankful his pants were baggy enough for his swollen knee. He made a mental note to ask Chance if he had a belt with him.  
  
Jake stuffed his wet clothes in the washer with Chance's. He'd already had a shower. Then, pulling up his pants, followed his nose to the kitchen. After finding the right cabinet with the glasses, he poured himself some juice and started to sit down across from Chance. "You got a belt I can borrow?" He said quietly, pulling up his pants before sitting down. "There's probably one in my brother's room he wont miss." He was flipping through the paper he had found when he started shoveling that morning. It was wet despite the plastic bag it had been in. Jake set his cane against the wall behind his seat. "I'm thinking about giving Rhianna a call when we get back home." Jake took a sip of his juice. Chance lowered the paper. "Is that really a good idea?" Jake shrugged. "Who knows. It's not like I will have to run off and save the world anytime soon." He picked up his glass then added lowly as an afterthought. "Besides, she said she didn't want to date again; she never specified about not doing anything else." Chance completely set down the paper this time, giving Jake a hard look. Sure, he was only three years older than Jake, but he'd matured a lot since he was 25. "What?" Chance shook his head and laughed. 


End file.
